Tell Me a Story.
We all tell ourselves stories. About ourselves, our relationships, our roles. Some stories we carry with us from childhood. Some we pick up in college and young adulthood. Others you take on when you become a partner. Not in any bad way. Just in a way that makes the partnership run more smoothly, that capitalizes on the different strengths and proclivities. Though I have learned there can be an inherent danger in believing the stories you create. Somehow my story became that I don't like driving in The City and that I am not good at it. It is an extrapolation of me having zero sense of direction, well, maybe a small sense now, and a very high rate of getting lost. But in this case A + B didn't really equal C. I don't love driving in unfamiliar places but I am fine at it.
The last anniversary I "celebrated" this year was actually equal parts empowered and kicked in the kass. I was empowered by visiting the girlfriend at work and then taking the three kids solo into New York City. Downtown. In unfamiliar territory. With traffic and construction. But I did it. Like an emmer effing boss! We navigated subways and taxis. We saw a space shuttle and Intrepid and even made it up to Harlem for a family visit. It wasn't easy. I schlepped a stroller (Holla! at my UppaBaby stroller. That thing is a beast!) and kids and stuff. It was stressful and challenging. But those are the fringes of the memory. The bulk of the memory is of an incredible 36 hours. Watching happy kids and feeling rather accomplished myself. I learned that I can do things solo that I thought I could only do together. It was pretty awesome.
It was on this trip that my friend christened me Krazy Brave. Were I to be bestowed a Native American name, this was it. I certainly felt both that weekend. And in those moments now when I start to tell myself the story that I can't, I remember this trip. Krazy Brave. I can and I will. Watch me.